Maximum Ride: Taking Back Our World
by Max Phrost
Summary: Four years after entire series... 80% of the world’s livable land is now too radioactive to live on, thanks to an organization called The Watchers. Can the new and improved Flock take back their world before it’s gone for good?
1. Gunner and Papi

AN: Just so you all know, I didn't put too much effort into this. I wrote this purely for fun, and I hope you enjoy it as well.

Gunner and Papi

On the steps of what could've been a museum in what may've been a highly populated city sit two kids.

The girl has honey blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, and gray eyes the color of rain clouds. Her tank top may have been white at some point, and her shorts could've been light blue. Her entire body is covered in a thick layer of grime, and her shoes have many holes in them. She's ridiculously skinny, her ribs poking out beneath her shirt. In her left hand is a moldy sandwich, and it's gone in seconds.

The boy sitting beside her is in no better shape. The two look almost exactly alike, except the boy is slightly taller. He's reading a tattered and torn book with the label "Big Papi" on the front.

The girl gives him a look. "Whatchu doin'? You can't read." She moves to steal his sandwich, but he slaps her wrist and grabs it first.

"So? I can read some things. And I can read the numbers." The girl rolls her eyes.

"Too bad the library's broke'd, you could be looking at all kinds a numbers."

The boy pulls her ponytail, and the girl responds by punching him. They soon get into a huge fight, paying no attention to the other duo that comes up behind them.

"Mind if we take these?" A brown-haired girl asks. She's holding up the bag of food the kids have, dangling it in their faces.

"Gimme that!" The girl yells. She tries to grab the bag, but fails. The brunette laughs. "You'll have to do better than that!" The kids stand up, too distracted by the brunette to notice her brother taking everything else the kids have.

The brunette's brother laughs a deep, throaty laugh. "C'mon, sis! I got their stuff!" The brunette drops the bag of moldy food at the kids' feet. They stare at her in shock as huge, brown and white wings suddenly appear from their backs. "See ya!" The girl laughs, taking off.

…

"What a waste of time!" The winged boy exclaims, sifting through the backpack he'd stolen from the kids in the city earlier. "All they had was this dumb book and a half empty water bottle! And who knows what diseases they had?"

The girl shrugs. "Try reading for once. You might like it." She stands up and unfurls her wings. "Alright, I'm going flying. See you in the morning."

"See ya." The boy watches his sister leave, and only after he's sure she's gone does he take out the book he'd stolen earlier. He stared at the cover. "B-I-G. Big! P-A-P-I…pay-pee? No…Poppy!" He opened it up and began to read. It took him almost all night to read the first three pages, but just the introduction made him feel depressed. He'd seen posters of baseball players before, he'd heard legends of the greats…Babe Ruth, Jackie Robinson, Lou Gehrig…he even had baseball cards that he kept in his back pocket. But anything relating to the old civilization was long gone, including baseball.

Amazing how fast the world can end.

…

The girl ran her hands along the wrecked remains of something called an "RXH Gunner." It looked like a tank, but smaller and as she knew all too well, capable of packing a bigger punch. She shuddered, thinking about all the destruction this may have caused.

She heard a loud siren and didn't even turn to look at what may have set the alarm off. She took to the sky, but was soon bathed in a blinding white light. "Come down with your hands up!" Panicking, the girl dove into the forest, hearing shots fired behind her. She landed in a tree, but knew she wouldn't be safe for long.

After catching her breath, she burst out of the trees, but stayed close the canopy. She heard barking for a while, but eventually the Watchers must've given up. They had more important tings to worry then a supposed "hallucination". That's what she always was, "A Hallucination." No one wanted to believe she could exist, though she knew all too well she was fully alive, and not alone.

…

She flew back to the cave where her brother was, and caught him reading the stolen book. She said nothing, just smiled at him.

"What?" He asked, worried. "Glad you got some dirt on me?" The girl shook her head. "Nope. I was just thinking about how we don't have names."

"Think we should make them up ourselves?" His sister nodded, and the boy seemed to consider this. "Alright…you first."

She smiled. "Gunner. Call me Gunner!"

Her brother gave her a confused look, but didn't ask. "Okay…call me Papi!"

Gunner laughed, loving her new name.

But now she just had to live up to it. Though she'd use her power for a different cause….


	2. And Life Goes On

Chapter One: And Life Goes On…

I've been shot at by the army, burned by arsonists, blown up by countless people, stabbed by countless people, injected with lethal chemicals by my parental equivalent and been pushed off the top of the Empire State Building. I can withstand virtually anything. I can take anything life throws at me.

Except wiping a three-year-old's butt.

Now don't think this my kid; I'm not that kind of stupid. I'm the sympathetic kind of stupid. I mean, come on, a seventeen year-old girl with animal senses and a love for cigarettes (Ahh, forensics) dies on your doorstep, leaving her infant child with you. Do you just leave the kid there and walk off? Well, I don't.

Nah, I take the kid in and raise it. Along with four bird kids, Underground Rodent Boy, Bitchy Ginger Girl, The Flash Jr., Gender Ambiguous Spiderkid and an annoying winged dog.

You'd think one of them would help me with my exciting task, but no. The only person who wouldn't mind wiping a kid's butt is with the only other person that may consider wiping a kid's butt, and they are busy collecting seashells at the beach.

So here I am, with a poopy butt in my face and a flushable wipe in my hand. As I begin the task, I can't help but feel an overwhelming amount of pity for myself. Not that anyone else really has a much better life. After The Watchers destroyed everything, the world has been a real mess.

And I don't mean Global Warming. I mean 80 percent of the world's livable area has been dubbed "too radioactive to support human life". And if that sounds bad, think about how the majority of the human population is completely and utterly dead.

After getting the kid ready for bed, I pick it up and carry it to its cot. "You tired, Kittenpig (The result of Angel bickering with The Gasmen about what to name it. I feel so bad for this thing, I'm tempted to rename it myself when it's old enough to care.)?"

Kittenpig smiles. "Can I have Celef?" I hand it –okay, it's a he- the little white teddy bear that used to be Angel's. He smiles and waves at me. "Goodnight Fangy. I love you sooo much!" He spreads his arms as wide as he can and I can't help but smile. "I love you too, kid. Goodnight."

I leave the room, shutting off the light. At this point all I want to do is go to sleep, but there's always work to be done.

"Fang, Rex says you're emo. Are you emo? What does emo mean?" The Flash Jr., AKA Smort asks me.

"No. And tell Rex he better shut up if he knows what's good for him." Smort seems to believe me and runs off.

"Aww, are you a little non-conformist emo kid?" Iggy makes a sad, pouty face and laughs. "Come on, they're just kids. Don't be so mean all the time." Now, Iggy is my best friend, there are very few things I'd trade him for, but the fact is, he's just as bad as everyone else when it comes to misbehaving.

I sound like a nag, but you try being the "leader" of a bunch of mutant kids who think they're entitled to Ultimate Sympathy, and are constantly acting like they're the best people in the world because of what they can do.

As I've learned on a number of occasions, there's always someone stronger. Fortunately, I haven't yet met my match.

(Haha, how wrong I was…)


	3. Most Wanted

Chapter Three: The Watchers' Most Wanted

THE WATCHERS' MOST WANTED

If you see these individuals, DO NOT APPROACH them. Simply call us at 781-456-9848

These individuals are incredibly dangerous, take immediate caution when around these individuals.

NUMBER TWENTY: ARKO FURY

NUMBER NINETEEN: ARTHUR HEMITH

NUMBER EIGHTEEN: KENNETH VENOR

NUMBER SEVENTEEN: JACKSON BOLLVAN

NUMBER SIXTEEN: COREE MACH AND DAUGHTER

NUMBER FIFTEEN: "MIX"

NUMBER FOURTEEN: "REXIUM NUC"

NUMBER THIRTEEN: "SMORT ICARUS"

NUMBER TWELVE: "IGGY"

NUMBER ELEVEN: "NUDGE"

The following are considered HIGHLY DANGEROUS. If spotted, call us without hesitation. We are here to protect you, the citizen.

NUMBER TEN: "FOX"

NUMBER NINE: "THE GASMAN"

NUMBER EIGHT: JEB BATCHELDER

NUMBER SEVEN: OLIVIA ANNEX

NUMBER SIX: JONATHAN WHOODE

NUMBER FIVE: "RED"

NUMBER FOUR: "BLUE"

NUMBER THREE: "FANG"

NUMBER TWO: "ANGEL"

NUMBER ONE: MAXIMUM RIDE

"I can't believe it!" Iggy cried after I read aloud this week's "The Watcher's Top Twenty Most Wanted" list. "I'm behind Nudge!" He groaned.

"What do you mean by that?" Nudge's voice was hostile, but I doubted she was too mad. Insulting Nudge is a very difficult thing to do.

"Angel will forever be more dangerous than I." I laughed, ruffling the little girl's hair. Though calling her a little girl is a stretch, considering all we've been through.

Like that time the two of us were kidnapped and injected with various lethal toxins. Or the time we got caught in the middle of a gang fight. Or that time when our safehouse caught on fire. Or-

Okay, I'll stop.

"We were a pair last time." Gazzy told Iggy, a little saddened. "Wonder what happened…"

"They realized I'm blind, that's what." Iggy whined.

"Wow! Rex! Mix! We're on the list again!" The three younger boys, all nine years old, gathered around the list, pushing everyone else out of the way.

"I can't believe you guys are arguing about who's the most dangerous. We all know Fang is a pussy, and he's number three." Fox, the Ginger Bitch, said, laughing.

"I wouldn't be talking. You were the one screaming about that stupid spider in the bathroom, not me." She rolled her eyes, and I felt victorious.

The boys had lost interest, so I got another look at the list. I tried to focus on the new names that sounded like our kind, but I couldn't.

I was too distracted by the name of the most dangerous person in the country.

NUMBER ONE: MAXIMUM RIDE

Was it possible that she was still alive? That she'd survived the explosion? It wouldn't be surprising; us mutants are tough to kill. But I saw her body myself…no way could she have lived.

"You know, I miss her too." Angel whispered, looking down. "I want her to be alive as much as you do."

"Well, we won't get anywhere by 'wanting'." I sighed, looking into Angel's bright blue eyes. "Tomorrow we'll try to find these 'Red' and 'Blue' people." They looked young, no older than Gazzy. They could be more mutants.

But Angel knew I was still thinking about Max. She gave me a hug and ran off, leaving to go do God knows what.


	4. Rude Awakening

Chapter Four: Rude Awakening

"Fang! Fang! Get up! Quick! We gotta go!"

"Huh?" I mumbled, too tired to form real words. "What time is it?"

"Uh, uh, uh, 4:30! C'mon, Fang! Get up!"

"In the morning?!"

"Yes in the morning!" Nudge yelled, she grabbed my arm and pulled. Hard.

"Ow! Watch the merchandise! I'm up, I'm up." Nudge nodded and took off at the speed of Nudge. I rolled out of bed and pulled on some jeans and other garments of clothing that were probably dirty.

I went to the window and blew some of the dust off.

Outside were Watchers. And they had Rex and Gazzy!

I'm gonna kill 'em. The Watchers AND the boys.

I broke the window and leaped out, only because I wanted to and it always looks cool in the movies. The Watchers' gazes flew to me instantly.

Sometimes, being public enemy number three ain't so bad.

Something fast and really hot suddenly flew past my exposed left arm. I whipped around to see the rocket bomb smash against the opposite wall of my room.

"Damn." Was all I could say before everything went dark.

…

"Subject five is now awake." I awoke to a pounding headache, and when I touched my forehead I felt a thick, wet bandage. "Subject five is bleeding again." There were wires attached to me in all kinds of places. I tried to remove one on my wrist, but was promptly shocked. I cried out in pain when I tried to stretch my right wing.

I turned to look at it. Big mistake.

My precious wing was covered in bandages. I was missing more than half of my feathers, and it was in a weird position.

"Subject five is assessing the damages."

"Shut the fuck up!" I yelled at whatever was narrating.

"Subject five may need to be restrained." I opened my mouth to speak, but was promptly shocked again. I fell back on my bed, too exhausted to do anything else.

…

"Subject five, get up." My bed moved into the upright position, and I cried out from the pain it caused my wings. I got shocked again, but hey, I was awake now.

"Let's see…you are wanted on two-hundred ninety four counts of attempted murder, one hundred fifty counts of actual murder. Nine hundred forty seven counts of robbery (I steal. A lot.). Four counts of kidnapping and two counts of assisted homicide." My heart beat faster as the guy rattled on. Not because of what he was talking about (Ha! You think I care about _rules_?), but because of the white lab coat, the antiseptic smell, the small, confined space.

I wanted to scream.

But I didn't want to get shocked again.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" The man asked in his big boy voice.

"I'm pretty good at stealing." He punched me, hard, and I tasted blood.

"Don't be smart with me." He ordered, pointing at me. No. Nobody "points" at me. I'm too good for mere "pointing".

"Would you rather I be dumb?" He hit me again, and I kicked him in the nuts. "Sorry, reflex."

I was shocked at five-minute intervals the entire rest of the day.

…

Ow. Can't straight think. Too much-Ow! Must-Angel! Losing-ARGH. Train…Max….tired…


End file.
